


Shakespeare in love

by MiloBettany



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Love Poems, M/M, Witchcraft, coriolanus!tom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiloBettany/pseuds/MiloBettany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a performance of Coriolanus Tom meets a fan and everything becomes strange. How did this happen? Where is he? And why is this guy talking so strange?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shakespeare in love

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Not sure if this one is proof read but I hope it´s not tooooo bad. 
> 
> This was sort of a experiment. Maybe I´ll write it out as a proper story one day. I hope you like it ^^

It was one of these days, when Tom didn´t feel sure, if he loved or hated his life. The performance was fantastical. The behavior of his fangirls surprised him again. 

As he was scrubbing away some fake-blood behind his ear someone knocked at his dressing room door.

„I´m coming!“ he shouted and turn of the water. He was glad the Donmar has a bathroom for their actors. Hadley be freaking out otherwise. The red lights on stage and the stuffy air in the overfilling showroom left them all sweat like cutoff pigs.

He quickly wrapped a towel around his hips and left the bathroom. He arrived his dressing room, he looking around, searching for his clothes. 

„Where are my....“ he murmured and froze. 

Was there anyone in his dressing room?

A cool prickle in his neck let him think so. 

Slowly, he turned around and froze again. An ice-cold shiver ran down his wet skin, like someone dumped a bucket full of cold water above him. 

In a corner, next to the coat rack, stood a young woman, who looked at him approvingly above her glasses. 

„Realy nice, Mr. Hiddleston!“ she said in a smoky voice, while her dark eyes swept his chest.

Tom could barely resist the need to hold his hand in secure in front of his nipples. Her look has something forbidden, poisonous. A short, implausible part of his self examined the young woman.

She had big boobs, thick butt, the brown-red hair straight and open. Black Nerd-glasses Blue cevalier-jaket, red biker boots, straight jeans. She wasn´t bad looking, more a bohemian than classic beauty. It must been her charisma. A dark cloud of intelligence and eroticism on high niveau fan her.   
She fllicked her tongue and came up to him. 

She was not his type. Too chubby. Too dangerous. He just saw one feeling in her face and that scared him. She was no fangirl. At least she didn´t behave like one.

„Should I screech a little bit? Maybe you´ll feel better then, Mr. Hiddleston?“ Her voice was deep, cheeky. Deep inside her, she laughed about him, while he stood here, dump like a fish. He thought he was really eloquent- until now. 

She stood just a few centimeters in front of him, lift her hand and touched him with her long fingernail, scratching above his barely-there chest hair. While she did this, she purred. 

„You are a beautiful man, Mr. Hiddleston!“ she said and looked away, offended. „Too bad that we have to share you with the hole world!“  
With a regretfully face she reached in her jacket and took a tiny black silk pocket. Tom cleared his throat and followed her hands with his eyes.

„Thank you...“ he whispered doubtful, one hand clawed in his bath towel.

She smiled at him and took something out of the pocket. 

It was an armlet. Filigree made. Made out of entwined roses. It was made out of gold with an oval enclosure with a green stone. He looked confuse at the jewelery. There was nothing female about it. Something told him, it would be better if he don´t wear it. Maybe it was the red glowing, he thought he saw in it, or her long black fingernails was scraching around the enclosure. He lifted his look and saw directly in her eyes. She slowly took his hand and lifted it to her lips. Kissed sensitive his knuckles. 

A shiver ran down his back, as her soft lips touched his skin. A feeling of fear rose up in his chest, laid its cold hand around his heart and seemed to squeeze it, as she put out the armlet slowly around his wrist. 

Something has changed in her eyes, he thought. He wished, he could snatch his hand away from her, could rebuke her, reject her. But his throat was blocked, his body frozen to a pillar of salt.

„I wish you a lot of fun, Mr. Hiddleston!“ she murmured, dropping his hand, which hung numb down his shoulder, and left the room. As she stood in the door, she turned arround and looked over him, like she would eat his flesh.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-..-.-.-

As she had left the room, he felt like someone had cut the ropes apart. He finally filled his lungs with air. He hadn´t noticed that he held his breath. His heart rushed in an unhealthy tempo and his lips were prickling because of the breathlessness. With a disable sigh he fell on his knees and coughed.

What was that?, he thought. He stares addled to his left hand. The armlet laid cold around his wrist. The stone shined, sneering at him. With a horrified sigh he touched the armlet and tried to find the lock. But there was none. He tried to push it off his hand but it just hurts. 

He had to go to a jeweler, to get this thing off. 

With a disable sigh he stood up and saw his clothes laying on a chair next to the dressing table. How did she come in? In thoughts he got dressed, picked up his iPhone and left the dressing room. He absolutely wanted to give some autographs. His fans were so fantastic today. They deserved it. After that strange meeting, he needed something normal, something he knew.

His arm with the armlet became heavier the longer he worn it. What a strange thing, he thought, as he opened the backdoor and the screams of his fans greeted him.

He could nothing other do as smiling. He quickly picked up a pen and photos to sign it, stood posed with shivering girls who exitedly clamped to the back of his jacket when he laid his arm around them.   
Beneficial adrenaline flushed his body. The stammering of the girls was Mozart to his ears. Red faces were looking up to him, when he called them „darling“. Wet hands are shaking his, when he asked them for their names. It was perfect.  
After he had given thousands of autographs, he looked up and got frightened.

There she was. Across the street, leaning against the lamppost. Her arms crossed in front of her breast. Her smuggling smile had something cankered, dark, which laid it slowly down on his chest. She nipped her eyes a little bit, then his lungs collapsed. 

He fell on the ground, frightened screams were the last thing he heard.

-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-..-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-..-

It smelled like goose dirt. That was the first thing he noticed. It smelled like goose dirt, sweat, mixed with smoke and alot of dirt. Sweet spittle flooded his mouth, a clear signal that he has to vomit. His stomach started to twitch, what force him to go up on his knees, the head between his arms, which were holding him up.

With a hot flood he puke on the floor. He tried choking the breath, what brought a new flood of his breakfast out.

„Gosh! Sir!“ he heard a horrified voice screaming. A heavy hand lay on his back and pat it. „Did we taste too much wine yesterday, hm?“

Confused Tom lift his head and looked around. At first he just saw light, which must shine from a high window above their heads. As his look became clear, he noticed red curtains, dark colored balustrades and white walls. In front of him stood some dark-wooded settles. The floor was made of rammed adobe. Wet mud lay above it. He lifted his head again and looked at the man in front of him. 

He thought his heart will stop to beating.

He knew these silhouette better than his own. The high checkbones, the slim mouth. The high forehead with these unbelivable receding hairline. A single pearl earring decorate him. The black doublet button up to his chin, white linen twinkled on. 

„Do you feel well, Sir?“

His voice sounded deeper as he had imagined. His ink-spottet hands touched his cheek and forehead.

Horrified Tom looked at the flood of vormit on the floor, then back to the man. „I will clean it up immediately!“

Hecticaly he looked around, searching for something to clean it up, water. As fast as he could, he tried to get up on his feet. But his knees dropped away, so he fell agains the stage like he was drunk.

The deep dark eyes of his counterpart looked peering at him, pitying. 

„Just let it be, Sir!“ he said fast. „ Margaret will clean it up!“ He turned around. „Margaret! Darling! Please bring some hay an clean the floor, yes?“

A young woman with light blonde hair stood in the frontdoor of the theatre and nodded, then she ran away. „And you, Sir, will come with me!“ he said in a friendly but authoritary way. With a heavy grip he linked his arms with Tom and took him away, past the stage and up the stairs.

Tom can´t resist to smelling on his back, while they go upstairs. He smelled surprisingly clean, with a littlebit of perfume. Something like lily or viola, a smell that was very modern in these times. 

After they arrived the galery, the man grapped Tom´s arm again and lead him in a short corridor.After that he lead him in a small, dark office. Everywhere laid papers on the floor and above the table. Some of them were torn, others with large spots of ink to made them unreadable. In a hidden corner stood a bed. The sheets were yellowish and seemed to be dirty and clammy. There was just one smal window, barricaded. Just some tiny grey spots of light were shining on the floor. The man grab a candle and light it on the blaze in the short chimney next to the table. 

Tom stayed doubtful in the door, starring at the mans back. He took some clothes up from a chair and offer it to him with a elegant move with his hand. 

Shaky Tom goes to the chair and took the seat with a thankful sigh. 

With a silent sigh the man register that and turned around, left the roon with fast steps and shout something to someone in the theatre. Someone answered him, so he came back. 

He held a tablet in his hand with two cups and a decanter. Took it to the table on a pile of papers. Tom reads in rolling letters „Hamlet“. His throat became dry.

Either he was in a bad movie or he was hallucinating. 

Again the dark eyes looked at him, the slim mouth smiled. „We hadn´t itroduce ourselves to you, i guess!“ he said, pour some wine in a cup and handed its to Tom. He took it thankfully and took a deep swallow, let the wine dance upon his tongue to get rid of the taste of vormit and smiled shyly.

With an elegant move the man spread his arms and did a deep bow in a courtly way. „William Shakespeare! A Slave of lyrics, philosophy and a lover of the beautyful arts!“

William lift his head lightly and looked with a cheeky grin to Tom, before he got up und looked hopefuly to him. Tom stareed with big eyes to the man, the hands convulsive around the cup.

So then...

With a short blink of his eye, he saw something red. It was the armlet. The stone wasn´t green, it was red. How could it be?

William looked hopefuly to him.

„ I´m Thomas William Hiddleston...“ he answered with a scratchy voice. „Actor...“

William raised an eyebrow and looked all over Tom, head to foot and back. It was a approving twinkle in his eyes, what Tom saw as they look to each other. 

„I´m so amazingly happy to see you..“ Tom stuttered and noticed that his hand started shaking. „You are my biggest inspiration, master Shakespeare!“

„Master Shakespeare!“ William shouted and started to laugh out loud. „You speak to highly of me, Sir!“ With a forgiving smile William goes around the table and sits down, while he grabs a cup und fills it. 

„To bad that i don´t need some more actors...“ he murmured and looked directly in Tom´s eyes. Tom, pale-faced, stared back with big eyes. 

His heart was in his mouth, his ears rang, is mouth was dry. 

He never had any homoerotic tendencies, also his fans wished so. But these man, who understands how best to stimulate someones sense with the language...He was real. Tom had to believe it. He wont ask why, or where, or who...His biggest wish came true. 

And these libidinous look, William throw on him. unabashed- Tom didn´t mind. 

The man who had understood how to tell about beauty and lust, it seems he found something in Tom.

As Tom saw these, he flushed. „Look at this man...“ William whispered. „ Flushing like a virgin maid...“ Slowly he stood up und knees in front of Tom, laid his fingertips on his cheek. „The skins color, like a rose, bloomed in spring...“ lovingly his thumb touched Toms lips. „ But almost withered...“

Tom held his breath. Shaky he panted for air, while Williams face came closer. It was just a short distance, then he would kiss him. 

As Tom closed his eyes, waiting for the soft lips of these Master of Speech, he heard screams.

„ To... m, Tom.... TOM!!!!“

A beat in his face forced him to open his eyes.

Benedicts frightened face was above his, framed by the anxious faces of some fangirls. 

„For gods sake, hes awake!“ someone whispered. Others start to cry.

Benedict looked at him with a furious face. „Drugs?“ he asked with a deep voice. 

„What?“ Tom asked horrified and sat up suddenly. 

He looked confused around. At first he looked at the fans, then to Benedict, who watched him afraid.

„What are you doing here?“ tom asked confused and tried to stand up. Benedict prevented this with a heavy grasp. 

„Should pick you up, forgotten? Stay down, man! The ambulance will be here in a few seconds!“

Tom heared the sirens. 

This was the first time he wished to live in an other century....

-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As William opened his eyes, he knew the man was gone. His lips even touched him. 

He felt his absence before he opened his eyes. It was cold an flume in the office...

His heart was broken. There where just short moments they had joined together. He cried because of the time they wouldn´t spend together. 

He sat down, with tears in his eyes, in front of his table. Took some paper an feather in his hand. 

He had no other choice, he had to write. 

„Sonnete 15, When I consider every thing that grows, Holds in perfection but a little moment...“


End file.
